breather
by milk ghost
Summary: Holding hands with the dead. You're a lost cause.—gray/juvia


**notes:** this took a completely different turn from what i originally wanted it to be. oops. this isn't even really romance, it's just straight up, unapologetic angst.  
 **disclaimer:** i do not.

 _ **x**_

 **{** _i'm fading much too fast, my love, i'm waiting for it to pass, my love_ **}**

 _ **x**_

Gray closes his eyes, scenes flashing between the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor. He can hear it—the squealing of tires on slick pavement ( _beep_ ), the distinct sound of metal grating and crushing against metal ( _beep_ ), the quick flash of pale blue between shards of broken glass ( _beep_ ), the churning smell of burnt rubber and gasoline ( _beep_ ), a set of freshly-left skid marks on wet asphalt ( _beep_ ), and a car horn blaring into oblivion ( _beep_ ). There's so much blood, it's on the cracked windshield, splattering the steering wheel and airbag, and even what is left of the front driver's side window is covered in it.

He wasn't there, but he can picture it clearly.

The hospital room is depressingly white, despite the dozen or so bouquets sitting on top of every available flat surface. The girl in the bed next to him doesn't move at all, doesn't even flinch as he grips her hand tighter.

 _There's not much hope,_ the doctors whisper in the corridor outside the room. _She's fading fast._ They don't think he hears them.

He does.

He isn't ready to lose her—this girl with the bright smile and the weird penchant for eating ice cream in the winter. Who dances in the rain and loves it so much that she even carries an umbrella around on sunny days. He can't let her go, so he holds on. With everything he has, he clings to her. It's selfish, he thinks, but it's what he does.

Gray is still holding her hand when she dies, and maybe, just _maybe_ that is the start of it all.

 ** _x_ —** _could i feel your skin on mine, before i have to say goodbye_

It's a week after her funeral when he sees her for the first time.

He's loosening his tie as he steps into his apartment, and that's when he notices the smell of rain. It hasn't rained in days, but the promising, almost musty smell permeates through the open space like there's a thunderstorm raging outside. It only gets stronger as he makes his way into the kitchen, which is mostly dark. A glass of whiskey sounds great right about now, because all he wants to do is forget while he can.

Then he hears the _drip, drip, drop_ coming from over by the counter. Was his faucet leaking now? The petrichor of rain is undeniable, and he flips on the kitchen light. There's a puddle on the floor, to his left, but it's not from a leaky faucet. The empty glass slips from his hand and crashes to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces that will never be put back together.

"Hello, Gray."

 _Drip drip drop._

Her voice is breathy, like she's calling to him from faraway. Her eyes are dark, dead, and her hands clasped in her lap as she sits on his counter like she hadn't ever been put into a coffin and buried six feet under just a week ago. Her long, pale blue hairs tumbles over her shoulders and into her eyes. Her pink sundress is stained with blood, and she's the cause of the puddle under her feet, because she's dripping water onto the floor.

Gray balks at the sight of her, because this shouldn't be happening. He's not even had a drink yet today, and he was already seeing things. She stares at him with those dead eyes, and he wants to turn around and walk out of his door again.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

 _You were in a coma—no,_ "braindead" _that's what the doctors said—for a month, and then you died. You died,_ he wants to say, _and your funeral was a week ago._ So yes, it has been a while.

"You're not real," he replies, turning his back to her and telling himself she's just a figment of his imagination. He doesn't know what he'd do if she isn't.

 _Drip drip drop._

Juvia twirls a curl around her finger and lightly runs the fingertips of her free hand over the sugar jar on his counter. "I'm as real as you are, Gray. I missed you, you know. Did you miss me too?"

He clenches his fist and throws it at the wall. The pictures rattle, and he stays there, knuckles burning, chest heaving, jaw clenched. _Of fucking course I missed you_ , he wants to scream. His heart aches, burns like an open wound because it never closed, and it's like losing her all over again. Even though she's just in his head, despite the fact that she isn't real, it hurts. His throat threatens to close up on him, and he lowers his head.

Gray stays there like that for some time, until the dripping has long since stopped, and when he finally turns around, she's gone. It's almost like she was never there at all.

Then he realizes that the puddle is still on the floor.

 ** _x_** — _could i breathe please, one last time, you in my lungs before i curl up and die_

Juvia purses her lips and stands on her tip toes, staring in concentration at the pastries through the glass case. "Hmm. I think I like these," she muses, as if the dead can actually eat and enjoy sweet things.

She always did have a sweet tooth.

Gray tries his best to ignore her as he picks up what he came to get for Lucy. He's pretty sure that in a few minutes, almost as soon as he walks out of the bakery, he'll get a text from the blonde saying that she already has what he's there for, and to just keep it himself. It is his favorite, after all, and it's not like she hasn't done this before. He's been onto her for a while, about her ordering and prepaying for some of his favorite things and then sending him over to get them only to "change her mind" last minute. But it's nice, and the blonde thinks she's so clever, so he doesn't say a word.

Only today, Juvia had appeared just after the baker had gone into the back to get the order. She'd scared the hell out of him, just showing up like she did. It's only been a couple of days since their encounter in his kitchen, and he was hoping that would be the last.

 _Not now,_ he'd thought when he heard the telltale _drip drip drop_ echoing in the otherwise empty bakery.

Juvia taps her chin and leans over the glass display case. "Have you ever tried their cupcakes? Cupcakes sound really good right now. What flavor, do you think? The chocolate one with pretzels on top looks fun."

"Go away," Gray mutters, just loud enough for her to hear.

 _Drip drip drop._

She turns to him, a pout on her face, like she isn't even aware of her bloodstained dress or the puddle she's leaving on the floor. "Fine then. The red velvet one with buttercream frosting. It's not near as cool, though. Where's your sense of adventure, Gray?"

"You're not really here," he tells her.

Juvia smiles like he's just told her a secret. "Oh, that again, huh? But really, you should try the cupcakes with the pretzels. Live a little."

"Here's your order, Mr. Fullbuster," the baker calls as he hands Gray a pastry box. "Already paid for. You know Miss Heartfilia. Will that be all, Mr. Fullbuster?"

His phone buzzes, as if on cue. And, as per usual, it's from Lucy.

 _2:13 pm_

 _Hey Gray! Natsu brought me a bunch of sweets today, so I won't be needing the ones you picked up. I feel so bad for making you do that and then not taking them. How about you keep them for your trouble?_

Yes, he certainly knows Lucy Heartfilia.

He turns to look at Juvia, but she's gone, although the puddle remains. The baker notices it, too. "How strange," he comments, but Gray can't take his eyes off the damn cupcake she'd kept telling him to buy.

"Actually…"

 ** _x_** — _all my world is losing light_

He calls her.

Gray isn't expecting her to answer, of course, but he still calls her nonetheless. He'd paid her phone bill just in case. The phone rings, and rings, and rings, until there's a click as her voicemail picks up where the ringing left off. Something stirs inside him when he hears her voice, her _real_ voice. He grinds his teeth at the feeling, a little ugly, nostalgia, and longing.

" _Hello! This is Juvia, and I'm sorry that I can't answer right now. Please leave your name and number, and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible! Bye!_ "

It's raining today, exactly a month after her death. It's fitting, he thinks, as he looks outside his window and down into the streets below. She's there, dancing in the rain. Twirling, hands in the air, as she throws her head back and laughs. He stops, cell slipping from his ear as he watches her.

She looks up at him, smile wide even in her bloody clothes and bare feet.

 _Drip drip drop._

Juvia waves, but he doesn't wave back.

"I died," she states simply, perched on a raised flowerbed, newspaper in her hands. She's scanning it quite intently, like she actually cares about what she's reading. It's dated three days after her death, and he knows her obituary is in there. He wonders where she got it. "In a car crash. Funny. I never did like driving."

Gray rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his scalding coffee. They're out in public, sitting outside a café, but he's realized by now that no one else can see her. He's not sure whether to be relieved or terrified by this fact. He glances at her from his seat at his table. She never sits on chairs like normal people do, but on counters and flowerbeds and wherever else seems to suit her fancy.

His brows furrow. "That is not funny."

She closes the newspaper and holds it up to him, tapping her obituary. "It's just ironic, is all. Like you buying that pretzel cupcake even when you were probably thinking to yourself, ' _I am not going to buy this stupid cupcake_.'" Good job. Irony gets us all at some point or other."

 _Drip drip drop._

He scoffs. "How did you even know about that?"

It should be obvious. Because she's just in his head, so of course that means thought projections and all this other psychologist shit he doesn't care to know about.

"I know things!" Juvia protests, but her eyes look incredibly sad, and tired.

He must look so stupid, like he's talking to himself.

She doesn't look at him this time. "You called me. While I was out dancing in the rain, you called me. I know."

Juvia looks up at the sky, and wishes for rain. "I'm as real as you are."

Gray stares at her, and she at him. She appears as if she's ready to cry. "I didn't think it would be this way."

He blinks, and she's gone, leaving nothing behind but her usual puddle and for once, Gray wondering what she meant.

 ** _x_ —** _i'm leaving this cold world of mine, no pleading is gonna turn back time_

The next time he sees her, real as day, right in front of him, he figures it out.

This is a haunting.

Juvia smiles at him, but it's worn-out. He remembers what it was like to kiss her, to thread his fingers through her pretty hair, to feel the flutter of lashes against his cheeks. She was always so shy, one part hesitant, but all parts loving.

 _Do you miss me?_

I do, he wants to say. I always do.

"You're real," Gray breathes, watching her as she sits atop his dresser, kicking her bare feet back and forth, back and forth. "You're dead, but you're here."

She laughs, sounding a little more like herself. "Are you telling me you don't know about ghosts?"

 _Drip drip drop._

"I died in a car crash, but I'm here with you now. Like I have been for the past two months. I didn't know I was going to die, Gray. I'm sorry. I wish we could've spent more time together when I was alive."

He doesn't get it. He just doesn't understand. "Why are you here?"

Juvia looks at him, long and hard, like she's searching for something she can't find. "Because you wanted me here, Gray. You didn't want me to leave. And that's okay. I didn't want to leave you, either. I love you so much Gray. I'll always love you. But you have to let me go now. Okay? I'm so tired, Gray. You'll be okay, you will. It will take some time, of course, but you have our friends. Don't push them away, Gray."

Gray stares at her from his bed, and she smiles softly. "But it's time now. Please let me go, Gray. I promise I'll always be with you, even if you don't see me. Remember that, alright? Goodbye Gray. I love you."

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He clenches the bedsheets and swallows hard, and when he opens his eyes, she's gone. The smell of rain that's been lingering about his apartment for almost two months has disappeared, and there's still a puddle in front of his dresser. Outside, the sky cries for the dead girl who'd loved the rain and him so fondly, almost like it misses her dancing to the rhythm of raindrops hitting the ground.

Gray leans his head back. "Goodbye, Juvia."

 ** _x_**

 **end notes:** not even sorry?


End file.
